


The Crashes Are Heaven (For A Sinner Like Me)

by IndigoNight



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Harry Fest, Dom/sub Undertones, Drama, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Light Bondage, M/M, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/pseuds/IndigoNight
Summary: Harry Hart has had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. But that's no excuse for accidentally taking it out on Eggsy. Even after Eggsy forgives him, Harry feels the need for a little bit more before he can forgive himself.





	The Crashes Are Heaven (For A Sinner Like Me)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains no actual domestic violence, but it does skirt around the issue and involves Eggsy accidentally getting triggered. Harry and Eggsy are both trying to overcome their own traumas and figure out how to have a healthy relationship. 
> 
> Written for Drama Week of the Bottom Harry Fest (just barely making it in time >.<). Title from the song Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine.

Harry has had an absolutely rotten day.

He’s honored that, even after everything, he’d been - unanimously - voted to take up the position of Arthur, and he’s trying very hard to do the job justice. But the truth of the matter is that he  _ hates _ desk work. He hates paperwork and budgeting and maintaining the diplomatic relations which are vital to the organization’s ability to function as they do. He misses fieldwork, misses daring chases down dark streets and clandestine meetings and breaking and entering. Nevermind that, as he’s been told repeatedly by every one of the medical professionals who’d overseen his  _ miraculous _ recovery for the better part of the past year, that fieldwork would be - as they had so delicately phrased it -  _ unwise _ and  _ impractical _ . 

And worst of all, Harry can’t actually argue that they’re  _ wrong _ . The lack of depth perception could be overcome with time and practice, and through stubborn determination he’s come a long way in rebuilding his strength and mobility. But there’s no ignoring the near constant tremor in his right hand which has absolutely ruined his aim; and injury aside, the inexorable creep of time is decidedly making its presence known in more ways that just graying hairs and wrinkled skin.

He’s trying, over all, to adapt, to accept the changes in his life. And it isn’t like the changes are all bad - case and point, the presence of Eggsy in his life, his home, and his bed is quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to him. 

But Eggsy has spent the last week chasing a ring of black market arms dealers across half of Eastern Europe when the mission was originally supposed to be a simple intel gathering trip lasting two days at the most. Eggsy had gotten back in the wee hours of the morning, and Harry had barely had time to kiss his bruises and tuck him into bed before regretfully leaving for the tailor shop. He’s missed Eggsy, and that missing had grown to a fierce, distracting pain filling up his chest with every inane requisition form he had to dig his way through.

The fact that he’d also been struck by one of the persistent migraines that still plague him at least every other week only serves to shovel more shit onto the garbage heap that’s become his mood. They always start like an itch where his hair is still patchy and thin around the scar marking the exit wound on the back of his head, and then spread to encompass his entire body in a dull, overly sensitive ache. He had taken the pain killers which lessen but do not dissolve the pain like he always does, then he grit his teeth and born it as best he could. He’s hardly a stranger to pain, but nevertheless it wears at him.

In the end, he’d given up on his work half an hour early, put aside the never ending stack of files and forms for tomorrow, and determined to pick up a nice dinner for him and Eggsy on the way home. All he wanted was to have a quiet evening celebrating Eggsy’s return, a hearty dinner to settle the nauseating cramps in the pit of his stomach, and a good night’s sleep with Eggsy tucked up tight against him.

He’d sat still while the Kingsman cab sat in an unreasonable amount of traffic with only the occasional grumbled remark to his driver. He’d stood in line at the market behind the woman who wanted to argue about the price of every single one of her thirty-six items without a word. He’d just barely managed not to stumble coming up the steps of the house when his shaking right hand had failed to grasp the railing properly.

But as soon as the door closes behind him - much louder than he would normally allow, though not quite a slam - his patience, abruptly and with the effect of a sucking drain, leaves him. His shoulders slump and he yanks off his tie in a way that risks tearing the delicate silk. He nearly trips over a pair of Eggsy’s trainers, left haphazardly near the door, and fumbles his way through the dining room with one hand pressed to his pounding temple. 

It’s a relief to make it to the kitchen counter and put the shopping down - without dropping it all over the floor even, he supposes he should congratulate himself on doing  _ something _ right today. He has to stop and brace his hands against the counter, his eyes closed while the breathes harshly.

Distantly he hears Eggsy’s footsteps pounding down the stairs accompanied by JB’s clattering claws. He fully expects a rush of relief, of delight, and he opens his eyes prepared to greet Eggsy with a smile and a kiss - but the first thing he sees is a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

It is, in retrospect, such a small, unimportant thing. A minor faux pas that Harry himself has been guilty of on more than one occasion. But he stares at that innocuous little pile of dishes and something inside of him snaps. “Fucking hell!” he shouts, at nearly the same moment that Eggsy reaches the kitchen and starts a cheerful, “Welcome h-” that is sharply cut off by Harry’s expletive. 

“How bloody difficult is to put your damn dishes away!” The sound of his own voice at shouting volume is like an ice pick being driven into his scarred and deadened eye, but that only makes the dark, ugly knot in his chest twist tighter and before he can catch himself his hand slams down against the counter hard enough to make the dishes rattle. “If you can’t do such a simple, fucking-”

“I was going to-” Eggsy’s voice starts out stubborn and argumentative, if a bit defensive, but then it cracks and fades out to nothing. He comes fully into the kitchen, shouldering Harry out of the way to get to the dishes. Except…   


Harry actually  _ looks _ at Eggsy for the first time. His face has gone deathly white, except for his eyes which are glinting wetly in the evening light coming in through the window. And his hands are shaking. His hands are shaking so badly that the dishes are clattering alarmingly against each other.

“Eggsy,” Harry tries, his heart sinking. He reaches for Eggsy’s shoulder, intending to apologise, to pull him into a greeting hug like he’d originally planned.

But Eggsy flinches and jerks back. He drops the dish he’s holding so that it falls back into the sink and he won’t look at Harry. “I-I’ve got to- JB needs-” he mumbles, his voice cracking again and he gives up. He retreats from the sink hastily, away from Harry, and then he’s gone the front door slamming in his wake.

“Bugger,” Harry says, staring at JB who is sitting innocently in the doorway. “Fuck!” Harry repeats emphatically, turning back toward the counter and slamming his fist down against it again, ignoring the pain the radiates up his arm. “Fucking bugger shit cocking fuck!”

*****

It’s exactly twenty-eight minutes before Eggsy comes back.

In the meantime, Harry washes the dishes. He does it slowly with extra care. He puts away the groceries he’d purchased. He takes another pain pill, not that it will do much good. And when the front door opens and closes again - softly this time - Harry is perched on the edge of one of the dining room chairs, fidgeting with a rapidly cooling cup of tea.

Harry stands as soon as he hears the door, but his legs lock up and he can’t quite bring himself to go and meet Eggsy. He doesn’t have to, however, because it’s only seconds before Eggsy appears in the doorway. Eggsy’s face is dry, but his eyes and nose are red; Harry had felt like shit before but somehow now, face to face with Eggsy looking so cautious but gentle, Harry feels like the absolute scum off the earth.

“Eggsy, I’m so sorry,” he blurts, immediate and sincere.

But Eggsy just shakes his head. “It’s alright,” he says, even though his voice is still hoarse around the edges and he rubs at his nose unconsciously.

“No, no it’s not,” Harry insists. His legs unlock and he moves forward, desperate to pull Eggsy into his arms but terrified of being rejected - though Eggsy would be perfectly justified in rejecting him. “It is never alright for me to talk to you like that.”

Eggsy shakes his head again, brushing away Harry’s concern despite the small tight lines around the edges of his mouth. “It’s been a shit couple of weeks,” Eggsy says, like that makes everything okay. “We’re both tired. And you’re head is hurting again - don’t try denying it, I can tell,” he adds with a scowl that normally would irritate Harry but in this moment is comfortingly familiar. He reaches out, gentle fingers cupping the sides of Harry’s neck and then smoothing up into his hair. And god, Harry just wants to melt; Eggsy’s fingers a slightly chilled from the cool evening air but they’re so gentle, so soft and comforting against Harry’s tense, aching muscles.

“That isn’t an excuse,” Harry says, trying to keep his voice firm despite how desperate he is to just fold into Eggsy’s touch and accept the comfort that Eggsy is offering, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

“Harry, it was a stupid fight, alright? Couples have fights.” Eggsy’s long fingers curl around the back of Harry’s head, cradling it and he’s stepped in close enough that their chests are pressed together. “You had a bad day, and lost your temper, and it just… it hit me wrong, is all.” Eggsy gives a little half shrug and a crooked smile that holds no actual humor. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Harry really wishes he could believe that, but Eggsy’s complexion hides nothing and there’s a tightness around the corners of his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised, and he isn’t really. How many other things had Eggsy shrugged off as  _ not that big of a deal _ during his youth, how many  _ bad days _ had Dean had before things became more than just a  _ stupid fight _ . A part of Harry knows that he’s being a touch dramatic; he isn’t Dean, he knows that and so does Eggsy. But Harry has lived his entire adult life in the proximity of violence, and Eggsy is just starting down that same twisting and complicated road.

  
Harry takes a slow, careful breath and reaches up to gently grip Eggsy’s forearms. He can feel the way Eggsy’s muscles flex under his touch as Eggsy’s fingers continue to card through his hair. He squeezes a little to make sure that he has Eggsy’s full attention and holds his gaze squarely. “It is a big deal to me,” he says firmly. “You should feel safe and comfortable here, and with me.” He has to swallow, his mind still stuck on the expression that had been on Eggsy’s face when he flinched away from Harry’s touch earlier. “I never want you to be afraid of me.” His voice cracks at the end of the sentence, but he lets it and refuses to break eye contact with Eggsy.

Something twists in Eggsy’s expression, and for a second Harry thinks he’s going to try and brush the incident off again. But then his eyes go soft and he presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. “I ain’t afraid of you,” he says, his voice soft and intimate after he’s pulled back just enough to look Harry in the eye. “And you are right. It’s not okay for you to yell at me like that, and it did upset me. But it’s over now, yeah?” Eggsy ducks his head slightly, looking up at Harry through his ridiculously long lashes - which, frankly, as far as Harry’s concerned is playing dirty. “You said you’re sorry, and I forgive you. So can we please put this behind us?”

“Eggsy-” Harry starts, but Eggsy is definitely playing dirty now because he steps in closer and leans up on his tiptoes to start pressing soft kisses to Harry’s temple and down his jaw.

“I forgive you,” Eggsy repeats firmly, his voice low in Harry’s ear. “And now, I would really, really like to spend the evening snuggled up on the couch making my boyfriend watch shitty TV with me. So can we do that, please?”

Harry swallows and gives in - which was inevitable, really, the way Eggsy has him wrapped around his little finger. “That sounds lovely,” he says, with absolute sincerity; he had spent the majority of the day fantasizing about exactly that, after all. So he ignores the guilty little flutter still lurking in the pit of his stomach and lets Eggsy propel him into the living room and push him down on the couch.

*****

Over the next week things settle back into their usual routine - at least, on the surface. After a couple of days rest, Eggsy spends the rest of the week back at HQ training with a new extraction and backup team. Harry remains buried under a veritable mountain of paperwork, such is his life now, but it’s significantly more tolerable when Eggsy is nearby and maintaining a habit of popping in to say hi at every opportunity. 

As far as Harry can tell, true to his word, Eggsy has fully forgiven the incident in the kitchen; however, Harry can’t quite seem to forget it. It isn’t a constant thought, but it lingers in the back of his mind, catching him at odd moments as he remembers the way Eggsy had flinched from him, that momentary flash of fear on Eggsy’s face. 

By the end of the week, Harry has resolved to do something about it. Eggsy may think what happened was no big deal, but Harry needs something more to put the memory behind him. So he makes a plan, orders the necessary supplies, and prepares himself. It’s something that he and Eggsy have talked about before - in jest, mostly, but enough that Harry is reasonably certain that Eggsy won’t reject his plan.

So Harry makes sure that everything is in order and settles himself in to wait. Eggsy was scheduled to have a post-training dinner with the new team that evening, but has texted to say that he’s on his way home. Harry has removed his shoes, jacket, and tie; he’s left on his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt, leaving his undershirt exposed. He can’t help fidgeting a little as he waits, the lingering traces of guilt mixing with eagerness and anticipation in the pit of his stomach. He runs a distracted hand through his hair, letting the usually slicked back strands fall in a disorderly tangle that he knows Eggsy likes.

“Harry?” Eggsy calls, accompanied by the sound the door closing behind him.

“In the bedroom,” Harry calls, distantly aware that Eggsy will probably hear the edge of nervous excitement in his voice.

Sure enough, Eggsy’s frowning slightly when he comes through the open doorway. “You alright?” he asks. He’s halfway through loosening his tie, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders - but he stops short when he sees Harry perched on the edge of the bed and the neat coils of silk rope sitting next to him. “Uh, what’s this?” Eggsy asks, his steps faltering and he looks like he isn’t sure whether to be cautious or curious.

“Precisely what it looks like,” Harry replies, keeping his voice as calm as he can. “I would like for you to tie me up and have your way with me.” It’s hard to keep a straight face when he delivers that line, but it’s worth it for the way Eggsy has to double over for a moment to suppress his giggles.

“You’re not serious,” he says, once he’s recovered himself.

“On the contrary, I am quite serious,” Harry confirms. “If you are amenable to it, of course.”

“Fuck, Harry,” Eggsy says, like that’s a sentence all on its own. He crosses the room in a few long strides and cups both sides of Harry’s face, leaning down to kiss him soundly. Harry opens his mouth yieldingly, relishing in the easy confidence with which Eggsy takes control. Harry lets himself lean back on his elbows as Eggsy begins to climb up onto the bed. “Are you sure about this?” Eggsy asks, but the words are whispered against Harry’s skin as he trails a line of kisses down Harry’s jaw. 

“Quite certain,” Harry responds, his voice cracking a little as Eggsy finds the sensitive spot behind his ear. His hands have made their way from Eggsy’s waist around to cup his tight ass, seeking the friction that Eggsy’s hips grinding downward would give him. 

Except Eggsy pulls back instead, his cheeks flushed and glasses askew, but his gaze focused and his expression assessing. “Harry, what is this really about?” he asks. It’s a little unfair, given that he’s kneeling between Harry’s legs and pinning him down to the bed. “Come on, I know when you’re brooding over something,” Eggsy adds before Harry gets the chance to protest. Something must show on Harry’s face, because Eggsy sits back fully and rolls off of Harry to sit on the bed beside him.

Harry tries not to sigh as he picks himself up and pushes the hair out of his face. It takes him a moment collect himself before he can look at Eggsy properly; suddenly he feels foolish with his big plan and secret preparations. 

But Eggsy gets there first. “This is about last week, innit?” he asks, staring at Harry a little too closely. “You’re still upset about how you yelled at me, aren’t you?”

“I know you said it’s alright,” Harry says, measuring his words carefully. In all his planning, he’d never considered having to actually  _ explain _ to Eggsy why this is so important to him or how he’d come to the conclusion that the ropes would help. “And perhaps you’re right, it’s a small thing that I’m making a big deal over for no reason. But it matters to me, deeply, that I upset you.” 

“That’s sweet, Harry, but I’m not upset anymore-” Eggsy starts and stops. He picks up one of the coils of smooth rope, running his hands over the length of it slowly, consideringly. “How is me tying you up going to help?”

“Well, besides the fact that it’s an activity I believe we will both find thoroughly enjoyable,” Harry starts, half hoping to dissuade Eggsy from focusing on Harry’s neuroses. “It is important to me that you feel secure in our relationship, that you have a sense of, well, of control. I know that is something that was… lacking in your youth,” he has to chose his words carefully; they don’t talk about Eggsy’s childhood, and they definitely don’t talk about Dean, but in this instance Harry thinks it’s necessary. 

“Harry-” Eggsy looks somewhere between fond and irritated. “This, you and me, is  _ nothing _ like… like that.” But Eggsy starts uncoiling the length of rope slowly, his eyes on the silky black of it. “You really think this will make you feel better?” he asks, glancing up at Harry with a slightly mischievous expression.

“Yes,” Harry confirms. “I also expect to enjoy it immensely.” Harry can’t help his own little impish smile.

“How do you want to do it?” Eggsy asks. “I mean-” Eggsy flushes a little, but he pushes himself up and straddles Harry’s lap again, starting to coil the smooth rope around Harry’s wrist, not actually restraining anything yet, just giving Harry a taste of the fibers against his skin. “What do you want to do?”

“Anything,” Harry says, already breathless and nearly dizzy with arousal just at the sight of Eggsy wrapping the rope around his wrist. “Everything you want from me.”

Eggsy grins, flushed and excited. He pushes Harry down on his back, lifting Harry’s arms up to the headboard as he begins winding the rope around Harry’s wrists in earnest. “That could take a while,” he threatens.

Harry grins back, at last feeling the cold knot of guilt in his chest start to loosen, replaced by the light warmth of love and adoration that he’s far more used to feeling when he looks at Eggsy. “I’m counting on it.”


End file.
